


The Evenstar

by CaptainTarthister



Series: Kingslayers [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Anal Fingering, Cunnilingus, F/M, Falling In Love, Guilt, Loyalty, Nipple Play, Rough Sex, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-08-30 22:39:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8551948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: Brienne realizes the depth of her feelings for Jaime. Guilt haunts Jaime once again.





	1. Choice and Consequence

_Twenty months ago_

 

They had gone through half the bottle of tequila, which explained the non-stop laughter and the senseless but delightful conversation they had been having. Brienne was lying on the couch on her side, redder in the face than Jaime could remember. Her straw-blond hair was a sweaty, messy pile on her head and she could no longer say complete sentences. It seemed laughter was her only language.

Kingsguard’s last concert in the tour ended hours ago. The band went out for a huge dinner at the hotel restaurant, reserving a private room so they could eat and mingle with each other freely. When that ended, as always, they adjourned to Brienne’s suite.  
Jaime and the rest of the band occupied the biggest suites at a higher floor while Brienne’s was modest but still luxurious. It didn’t have a kitchen like their suites but that was alright. As long as there was a comfortable couch and unlimited amounts of alcohol and nachos, the guys of Kingsguard were more than satisfied.

There was much laughter and ribaldry. They teased Stannis for being unable to guess the name of the animal written on a piece of paper stuck on his forehead. Loras made a pillow out of Brienne’s lap and fell asleep there. Sandor was the biggest and the strongest among them so it fell on him to carry their drunk and snoozing drummer like a maiden out of the room. Then Rhaegar and Stannis had to leave, once again leaving Jaime and Brienne alone.

Jaime, seated across from Brienne and lazily strumming his guitar, smiled as Brienne’s body shook with jovial laughter. Her laugh would never be the sound of silver bells, they were not girlish giggles. They were deep, full and loud belly laughs, way unsuitable for public hearing. The way she laughed was ugly, her big wide mouth opening, full lips retracting to bare her big, crooked teeth. But her sapphire eyes danced and the way she surrendered to mirth was breathtaking to watch. 

“Listen, listen,” he slurred, striking a few notes on the guitar. “You’ll like this.”

Brienne was throwing gummy bears up in the air and trying to catch them in her mouth while lying down. 

“Brienne.” He growled impatiently. When she turned and shifted, mouth hanging open and looking like an idiot and not listening to him, he grabbed the pillow behind him and threw it at her. 

It smacked right on her face muffling her protest. She threw it off, her forehead scrunched in annoyance and looking so ugly that Jaime burst into laughter. She stared at him then threw her head back, her horsey guffaw blending easily with his hoots. Her eyes looked bluer. There was no looking away from that. 

“Listen,” he told her again, playing a few notes. “This one just hit me. You’ll like it.”

“I like every Kingsguard song, Jaime,” she told him cocking her eyebrow. She raised herself a bit by putting a hand under her chin. 

“This is new. Like, the words just came to me.” Jaime insisted. “I call it `The Bear and The Maiden Fair.’”

“Unh-unh,” Brienne shook her head then winced. “You’re great, Jaime, but you’re not genius.” She stretched her long arms over her head, arching her spine with the grace of a cat. It pulled her t-shirt high on her stomach, the bottom just resting under her tits. Seven Hells, she had freckles there. Not just on her face but on her stomach. Distraction made him slow to absorb what she’d just said. When he understood, he glared and threw another pillow at her. Brienne turned away then shrieked when she realized her body hit the air. Jaime howled with laughter

“That’s for being way harsh!” He told her between chuckles. Brienne was shaking from laughing too as she lay helpless on the floor, a tangle of long arms and too-long legs. As their laugh died down, he insisted that she listen to him again. 

“You’re the first to hear. That’s a privilege,” he said. "Now do as you're told and stop acting like a fucking child."

“You are an arrogant ass,” she declared. “Alright. Impress me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re going to be so impressed you will not only lose your shit but your panties.”

Brienne picked up the bowl of gummy bears and hurled the contents at him. He laughed as the soft candy hit him. “Eww! Jaime, what the fuck!” 

“Will you shut your mouth and listen?”

“Fuck you.” But she sat up and rested her spine against the couch. Her movements were swift and languid, loose. Yet she was almost graceful in folding her legs so she can rest her chin on her knees. With her eyes red from sleepiness and alcohol, she looked vulnerable. Child-like despite her size and thirty-five years. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” he said.

She shook her head then instantly regretted it. “I won’t.” 

Jaime smiled then sent his fingers to work, strumming the guitar fast. 

“A bear there was, a bear, a bear!  
all black and brown, and covered with hair.  
The bear! The bear!  
Oh come they said, oh come to the fair!  
The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear!  
All black and brown, and covered with hair!  
And down the road from here to there.  
From here! To there!  
Three boys, a goat and a dancing bear!  
They danced and spun, all the way to the fair!  
The fair! The fair!  
Oh, sweet she was, and pure and fair!  
The maid with honey in her hair!  
Her hair! Her hair!  
The maid with honey in her hair!  
The bear smelled the scent on the summer air.  
The bear! The bear!  
All black and brown and covered with hair!  
He smelled the scent on the summer air!  
He sniffed and roared and smelled it there!  
Honey on the summer air!  
Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair!  
I'll never dance with a hairy bear!  
A bear! A bear!  
I'll never dance with a hairy bear!  
The bear, the bear!  
Lifted her high into the air!  
The bear! The bear!  
I called for a knight, but you're a bear!  
A bear, a bear!  
All black and brown and covered with hair  
She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair,  
But he licked the honey from her hair.  
Her hair! Her hair!  
He licked the honey from her hair!  
Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!  
My bear! She sang. My bear so fair!  
And off they went, from here to there,  
The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair.”

 

He played the last notes, fingers coaxing the sharpest but playful notes from the guitar before he finished. Grinning proudly, he looked up.

Brienne had fallen asleep with her chin propped on her knees. 

“I can’t believe you,” he chided her as he put the guitar away. But his smile was warm and gentle.

He got unsteadily to his feet and strode toward her. He bent and pulled at her arm, urged her to loosen her legs from her chest for a bit so he could carry her. Brienne whined and opened her eyes briefly, looking at him before they closed again. Jaime picked her up, grateful for those intense morning workouts she required of them. She was heavy and very solid, so unlike any woman. He found the bedroom and gently put her to bed.

Brienne sighed and stirred, her eyes once again opening. Frowning at Jaime, she demanded, “Why are you in my room?”

“You passed out,” he explained, pulling at the comforter to wrap around her. 

She giggled. “Oh. Whoops.”

“Never mind. Let’s get you to bed.” He tucked the comforter securely around her. Brienne sighed and began to hum the song he had just played. “Well. I guess you were listening.”

“You licked the honey from my hair,” she murmured, opening her eyes again and smiling at him briefly.

He chuckled and pressed his lips on her cheek. “He, sweetheart. And her. Not me, not you.”

“Hmm.”

He sat by her legs and watched her turn to her side and sleep. Her snore was the soft growl of a bear. Unable to stop himself, he reached out to stroke a lock of her limp hair lying across her forehead, smoothing it away. His thumb skated toward her thick brow, down her freckled cheek. 

“Good night, sweetheart.” He kissed her again and got up.

He heard her turning, the sheets rustling loudly. He glanced back at her and saw that though asleep, her arm was stretched out to him. 

“Stay.”

He was snuggled beside her right away.

There was nothing to it, really. Their relationship had been antagonistic for a short time before they won each other’s respect. Affection followed not long after. Jaime admired his young manager’s tenacity in promoting and pushing the band toward their non-stop trajectory. She had no trouble getting all five of them in line, so that wasn’t really surprising. 

Sometimes he worried that she had no time to herself. Being on the road was rough, and after a two-week break, there were rehearsals once again, another record to make, another tour to schedule. Then it was back on the road. Two weeks was not enough to have personal life but Brienne assured him she knew how to make time for herself. 

That was surprising. Brienne was not his type—he figured she was hardly anyone’s type because of her unfortunate looks—but there were men, men better than him, who saw past that to know her real beauty. He shouldn’t mind but a part of him did. Though he wanted her to not concentrate her life solely on the band, he hoped she was with a better man. Someone who loved and respected her. Someone who would always put her happiness first. Jaime was never going to be that man. Much as he would love to try, there were reasons in his life that prevented him. 

The soft chimes of the doorbell rang. Jaime frowned, pulling his head away from Brienne’s shoulder. She remained still.  
He was careful in leaving the bed so as not to wake or jostle her. The chimes continued. His stomach was a tangle of barbed wires as he shuffled to the door and answered it.

Cersei was in the thick robe of the hotel, beautiful even in the shapeless thing. She was Jaime’s mirror, and thus looked lovelier the more she was looked at. Her blond waves cascaded to her shoulders, her eyes a clear, emerald green. Her lips were a soft, pink bow. His twin really was beautiful, Jaime thought, staring coolly back at her as she regarded him with impatience.

“Why are you here?”

“Brienne’s drunk. I can’t leave her.”

“She’s a grown woman. She made her choice.”

Jaime understood her resentment of Brienne. It was a lost cause. Since their mother died, Cersei was convinced everyone she loved would leave her. She clung to her family to the point that she would cry if they left her side for just the merest of moments. Their father never understood while Tyrion didn’t have the patience. That made Jaime the de facto companion.

“Come.” Cersei held out her hand to him.

“I have to stay here.”

“Jaime.” Her voice was sharp and her eyes narrow. “I need you.”

He looked at her and, resigned, nodded. She took his hand and pulled him after her.

Jaime had his own suite but it led to an adjoining room, which was Cersei’s. As the door closed behind the twins, Jaime decided to be with his sister for an hour, just until she fell asleep, before sneaking back to Brienne. 

“Am I becoming a burden?” Cersei suddenly asked him. 

Jaime would never tell her the truth. Tywin and Tyrion had no idea how Cersei was. 

“You swore you would never leave me.”

“Cersei, I will never leave you. You have my word. But sometimes other people need me too. Don’t I always go back to you?” This time, he couldn’t hide his bitterness. “I always return to you.”

“What should I do to keep you at my side, Jaime? I am here. I have left my life behind to be with you. Again.”

“I never asked.”

“It’s because you don’t that’s why I’m here. That’s how much I love you.” She reached up to touch his cheek and Jaime froze. Her hand was soft but it was comfort. “You and I are all that matter, Jaime. Look at Father. Look at what Tyrion has done.”

“They did nothing wrong.”

“They have never forgiven me.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” 

Cersei dropped her hand and turned away. “You just say that so I’ll stop feeling guilty. But I was the one behind the wheel. I killed Mother.”

“An accident. It was an accident.”

“Tell me what to do.” She was begging him now. “What more should I do so you’ll never leave me?”

“I swear to you—“

Jaime voice trailed off as his eyes bugged out at what Cersei was doing. She shrugged off her robe and stood naked before him.  
They were children the last time they saw each other naked. Little children with only innocence and happiness in their lives. Jaime knew he should look away but shock kept his gaze pinned on his sister’s breasts, full and heavy, with nipples the color of dark pink roses. Her waist was small, curving dramatically before flaring to round hips. She didn’t have much hair on her cunt but it was as golden and soft-looking as the one on her scalp.

“I love you.” She said, breaking the spell. “Jaime, my brother, I love you.”

Then her arms were around him, tugging his head down to capture his mouth. Jaime, still recovering from his shock, let her kiss him, swipe her tongue inside his mouth. She took his hand, placing one at her breast, the other at her hip. 

“No.” He went rigid and yanked his hands from her body. Cersei shook her head and kept kissing him. Confused yet horrified at what was happening, Jaime pushed her away. With a cry, Cersei fell to the floor, her legs opening and giving him a view of the moisture inside her cunt. Breathing hard, Jaime scrambled for something to cover her until he remembered her robe. He tossed it at her.

“Cover yourself up.” He ordered her harshly, trembling. _“Now!”_

“You could look at that ugly cow’s cunt and not mine?” Cersei demanded, flinging the robe aside and sitting up, still naked.

Jaime stared back at her, aghast. “We have never—“

“Please. I’ve seen the way you look at her. Everyone knows. You have only slept in this room twice for the entire stay. You’re always in her room.” Cersei glared at him. “You’re always in her.”

Jaime thought nothing worst could happen at that point but it did. At the mention of being inside Brienne, he was quick to see himself between her legs, losing himself in the depths of her eyes, the tightness of her cunt. He hissed as his felt that all-too familiar twitch of his cock and he turned away from Cersei.

“I’m getting myself another room. I have no wish to see you again.”

Those were the last things he said to Cersei. He was asleep in his new room, forced as he was to get another once since Brienne was not answering the door. He stared at his cellphone, frowning at the unknown number then picked answered. It was from a police officer. Something had happened to Cersei. A car accident. Jaime sat up. 

“We couldn’t identify her with one hundred percent certainty at first, sir. We had to go look for her head.”


	2. A Closed Door

The Present Day

Many Sandwiches was the simple, direct-to-the-point name of the restaurant that sold, well, many sandwiches. The selections went from plain old peanut butter and jelly to fancy crab rolls. It had become Brienne’s favorite restaurant in the three months following Jaime’s termination of her services.

Technically, she was only his manager in name since she hadn’t been really representing him. She was trying to get the entire band together for the comeback and it didn’t work. She could bill Jaime for the hours spent but it wasn’t right. In light of the events that led to her firing, it was simply not right.

It was easy making peace with that part. Getting fired was another matter. She had startled both Sansa and Sandor when tears suddenly leaked from her eyes in the middle of telling them about it. Three days had passed but Jaime was quick to remove himself from her life. Within hours of his declaration, he had packed his things and was gone. Not even a toothbrush left. That hurt too. A whole goddamn lot.

Brienne turned in her last article for the magazine and quit. They were sorry to see her go but she felt that the job, though right for her, wasn’t giving her any satisfaction. Her passion was discovering groups and letting the world know about them, keeping them on top. The closest to it was the offer for the new reality show in search of the next big rock band, The Band. There, she was a mentor teamed with Rhaegar, and also had producer credit.

She had a few hours free before reporting to the studio for the taping. At her table was an untouched bacon-and-cheese served in thin, crusty bread, and a cup of coffee she had barely sipped from. Brienne was doodling mindlessly on the tablemat menu.  
“A woman did not like the sandwich,” came an unfamiliar, accented voice from above her. Brienne looked up, eyebrow wrinkled. 

The speaker was a man with dark blond hair that hung thick and wavy past his shoulders, pale gray eyes and a smug, lopsided smile. He looked nothing like Jaime at all yet something about him reminded her. She squirmed under his bright stare.

“What?”

“The name is Jaqen H’ghar. I own Many Sandwiches. May I?” Brienne nodded and he slid on the bench opposite hers. Looking at the sandwich, he asked, “What did not the woman not like?”

“This woman is called Brienne.” She answered. “And I like the sandwich. I just don’t have any appetite.”

“Can a man interest you to another sandwich?”

“You really talk like that?”

Jaqen frowned. “Does Brienne not like the way I speak?”

“Brienne!” Sansa’s voice rang out as she hurried to the booth. At five months pregnant, she looked more beautiful than ever. Her auburn hair hung down her shoulder in a loose, romantic braid, and her blue eyes were sparkling. She glanced at Jaqen as he stood up.

“I didn’t know you had company,” Sansa remarked slowly, shooting Brienne a quick, sidelong glance.

“A man saw that she has not eaten her sandwich. Does the lady wish for a menu?” Jaqen replied.

“Uh. Okay.”

Sansa frowned at Brienne as Jaqen left. Brienne sighed and shrugged. 

“Friend of yours?” Sansa asked as she sat down.

“No. He owns the place.” Brienne set aside her doodle and beamed at her best friend. “May I?”

“Fine, touch the belly. That’s what everyone wants to do these days,” Sansa replied, rolling her eyes. But she was grinning as Brienne gently pressed her palm on her firm, round belly. 

“Unbelievable,” Brienne marveled before removing her hand.

“So.” Sansa put her hands on the table. “The reason we’re meeting.”

“You mean there’s another reason best friends are seeing each other?”

Sansa nodded at her doodle. “That’s an interesting thing you’ve done.”

Brienne looked at it and blushed. She had drawn a lion with its face pressed against a woman’s chest. She crumpled it up and shook her head.

“Sandor ran into Jaime the other night.”

“Okay.”

Sansa frowned. “A little disappointed by your reaction. Anyway, my husband tells me that his former ex-bandmate is shopping for a new agent.”

“That’s expected because he fired me.” Brienne took a bite of her sandwich and said, “Fuck. That is good.”

“Brienne, how long are you going to do this? Jaime was obviously hurt by your rejection. And you’re not doing so well either. I can understand Rhaegar because he’s obsessed with anything to do with music but you? Brienne, Brienne, you know that rock bands are never discovered in shows. They’re discovered because they got a gig in some dingy club, after just playing in the garage for years. You don’t belong in that show.”

“Correction. Jaime didn’t fire me because I rejected him. He fired me because he believed I had no faith in him.” Brienne sipped her coffee. It was already cool and way too bitter. “He interpreted my concern as absence of faith.”

“So why didn’t you bother correcting him?”

“Why? He already said I was fired. If I did, it's tantamount to begging.”

“Oh, fuck you, Brienne.”

Brienne cocked an eyebrow. “I’m going to forgive you because the hormones made you say that.”

Sansa looked at her in the eye. “Fuck. You. Brienne.”

“Dear gods, why?”

“Because you’re either too stupid or have too much pride to know that you don’t belong in that show. Really, Brienne? It was so painful for me to watch you having those prima donnas sit down and discuss what their fight was about. Which involved a fucking eyeliner! What is wrong with you? This isn’t you. You’re a disservice to the Brienne I know. Because the Brienne I know would rather eat live snails than put emo music back in the air!”

“So they sing a lot about being abandoned by their daddies. What rock band hasn’t?”

“Not in that whiny way that makes me want to strangle them with pantyhose?”

Brienne made a face. “Really? You wear pantyhose?”

Sansa shot her an exasperated look. “Focus, will you?”

“I am. I can’t believe you’re dissing me like this. I like what I’m doing, Sansa. I’m helping create and build the next big rock band.”

“Brienne, I say this with all the love in my heart,” Sansa said, reaching for her hand. “But you are not. The next band around the corner until the next one comes along, sure. But nothing like Kingsguard. Because there is nothing like Kingsguard.”

“Kingsguard is over.”

“Not Jaime.” 

“Jaime has no need of me. And I of him.”

“You need each other. You bring out the best in each other. I’ve seen it myself and I would love to see it again. It really hurts to see you in that show.”

“Then don’t fucking watch it!”

“ I can’t,” Sansa suddenly wailed. “It’s a fucking train wreck and I can’t not watch. Brienne, you don’t have to start from scratch. You have Jaime.”

“Look, even if he takes me back, I can’t work with him. I don’t believe in mixing business with the personal.”

Sansa was about to speak when a server approached with the menu. Brienne told him she would have the same sandwich but with tea. The server nodded and walked away.

“You were engaged to Jaime’s PR.”

“We got together after Kingsguard dissolved. And his name is Oberyn.”

“Look, I’m trying to protect my child from idiotic things. That name is one of them. I would appreciate it if you never mention it again.”

“Hey! I thought you liked Oberyn.”

“After finding out he was cheating on you and would only stop when married?”

Brienne waved her hand. “The important thing is I didn’t marry him.”

“The important thing is you and Jaime have got to get back together. Brienne, you were the ultimate team. He was Kingsguard but who was there when he wrote the songs? Who did he play them to first?”

Brienne didn’t answer. For in the past, Jaime would call her in the middle of the night and ask her opinion on a particular line of a lyric, or play her a section of the composition he had just finished. She cursed him for interrupting her sleep but gave her input. And he took it. 

“Some agent is going to scoop up Jaime and make him do gods know what,” Sansa continued. “They won’t be there for him like you are. It won’t be a team. And Jaime will never get back onstage. You and I know that. He’ll never get back there without you.”  
Brienne stared wordlessly back at her. 

“Does it bother you so much that he has feelings for you?” Sansa asked carefully.

“Here’s the thing,” Brienne said after a moment. “I know for a fact he doesn’t have feelings for me. He only thinks he does. Jaime can only function when someone is there for him at every step of the way. I’m not that person.” She felt her voice break at the sentence. “He needs me but he has no feelings for me. I know.” She nodded insistently when Sansa looked about to protest.

“What do you mean?”

“Cersei told me. A few days before she died. She said Jaime only comes to me because I’m a sounding board, advisor, manager, all rolled into one. He bleeds all he can get from a person and she said I’d be stupid to give him everything. And if I were to expect more there’s only going to be disappointment because it will always be her he returns to.” 

Brienne let out a breath, finding some relief in telling someone this knowledge she had kept to herself for a long time. 

Sansa wouldn’t be Brienne’s best friend if she handled her with kid gloves. As Brienne was still recovering, Sansa asked, “And did you expect more when she told you that?”

Brienne finished the coffee in one gulp. The bitterness was overwhelming.

“I was in love with Jaime.” 

They stared at each other. Sansa squeezed her hand.

“Was?”


	3. I Dream of You

Brienne stood with her back facing Jaime, embraced in the light of the sun. He drank her in, finding both contentment and hunger seeing her in his room. He closed the door and she turned around to look at him. He took his time to assess her, smiling softly at the her figure looking strong and powerful in one of the many high-collared white blouses she wore, opened at the throat to show the spill of freckles there. Her black pants were tailored to fit her firm thighs, her long legs. 

He left her astonishing eyes for last. They were drowsy blues in the brilliance of the room, yet radiated with a quiet happiness. He paused mid-stride, a hard yet familiar blow to his solar plexus at the sight of her like this: those breathtaking eyes, the rough mess of her pale hair, the sweetness of her pillowy lips. Her freckles became clearer, her face acquired a deeper pink as he resumed walking until he could touch her cheek.

She turned her face to his palm, pressing a kiss there before she let out a breath and threw her arms around him. Gods, he thought, holding her tight. He had always been impressed, and for a long time now, in love with her size. She was a pillar of warm flesh, freckles, heartbeat. He kissed her on the shoulder before looking up at her, transfixed at the astounding beauty of her eyes, eyes that looked at him as if he were somebody great.

“Don’t look at me so, wench,” he teased her though his throat swelled with emotion. “You might be disappointed.”

She frowned but leaned her forehead against his. He closed his eyes, breathing in the fresh, head-spinning musk of her. “You’re an idiot. And it’s Brienne, not wench.”

He smiled at her and kissed her briefly. Then he stepped back reluctantly, taking pleasure in her flushed face, the trembling of her lips, her eyes opening slowly and blinking rapidly as if she were doubting his presence. He kissed her again, deeper this time. She moved to put her arms around him, swung her hips, took a step to urge him back gently. In the entirety of this awkward dance in which she took the lead, he let her bring him where she wanted to be. The bed. 

A hand on his chest gently pushed him to lay down. He pulled her with him, looking up at her. This time she kissed him.  
She kissed him as if she had been wanting to her whole life.

He didn’t want her to have any regrets. 

Her mouth was warm, subtly tasting of something that reminded him of honey. Mind-blowing how she literally tasted sweet. _Innocence._ He gripped her head, roamed the broad span of her back and then he was rolling so she was under him. 

“I thought you were going to sing to me first,” she teased him, biting her swollen lip as he unbuttoned her blouse. It was too slow so after just undoing three, he ripped it open. “Jaime!” She exclaimed just before he trapped her admonishment with a kiss, then made her forget. He licked and kissed every freckle he found around her chin, down her throat. There were more on her chest but something else made his mouth water. He glanced back at her, grinning as she breathed quickly, her fingers gripping the sleeves of his shirt. His touch was reverent on her tits. Gods, he thought, blinking at the twinkle of the barbell studs framing her nipples, the stars resting on her aureoles. Then with a wicked look back at her, he took a nipple in his mouth, closing his eyes at the flood of steel and woman. 

“Jaime,” she begged, wonder and desperation in her tone. “Jaime. _Oh, Jaime.”_

“I can’t believe you kept these from me all this time,” He groaned, licking the sides of her tits and the valley in between. He cupped the gentle mounds greedily as his kisses deepened, his licks longer.

“What? I—“

“Hush,wench. Just watch me pleasure you.” He told her before wrapping his lips around another nipple. He licked and sucked, groaning at alternating sensations of cool steel and warm, turgid flesh. Above, Brienne continued to breathe rapidly, touching him randomly on his hair, shoulders, cheeks. He nuzzled his nose between her breasts, rested his head briefly there as he played with her swollen right nipple. Her heart raced under his ear. 

“Are you afraid?” He asked, pushing himself up off her to rest on her side. Brienne turned too so she was facing him. Twin lines formed between her pale eyebrows. His heart clenched at the desire in her eyes yet her entire body was shaking. He pulled her to his chest.

“Please tell me this is real,” she whispered against his neck. She cupped his face and there it was, the uncertainty, the worry. Fear. 

He started to speak, to swear to her everything was real but the phone rang. Again. Brienne clung to the collar of his shirt and there was nothing more he wanted in the world than to be with her, sink deep inside her and drown in her eyes. But he always had to answer. So he picked up the phone.

_“We couldn’t identify her with one hundred percent certainty at first, sir. We had to go look for her head.”_

Jaime woke up with a tortured groan, hating life, hating how once again it was all a dream. Add to that his phone was ringing. He glared at the mess on his thighs, were his cock hung half-limp and still spurting, before he turned his ire to the offending instrument. He rubbed his eyes, thinking that doing so would erase the sapphire eyes that have been haunting him. Fat chance.

He finally picked up the phone and growled. “What.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Demanded Tyrion. “I’ve been ringing the doorbell for fifteen minutes. We have a meeting with the record execs in ten.”

“Shit.”

“Right. Shit. Get your ass down here.”

Jaime hung up and sighed. He stared helplessly at the ceiling. How could he be so wrung out when it was only morning?  
He hurried into the shower, brushing his teeth in between soaping himself. Cologne was sprayed on and he put on his standard uniform of a plain, v-necked black t-shirt, narrow dark jeans and worn combat-style boots. He was still running product over his hair and styling it when he opened the door and walked on the red-brick path towards the driveway, where Tyrion’s limo was parked. A young man with dark eyes and a round face stuttered out a greeting at him as he opened the door.

Tyrion was frowning as Jaime slid in. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

“I’m a rock star. I can wear whatever the fuck I want. You’re the manager. You’re a suit.” 

Tyrion rolled his eyes and called out, “Podrick, let’s go,” just before he pushed a button for the partition screen to rise.  
As soon as they were cut off, he turned to his brother. “I told you to get some rest.”

Jaime shrugged. “What makes you think I didn't?”

“If you were slurring I’d think you’re hungover. But your eyes are bloodshot. Here.” Tyrion handed him a pair of aviator sunglasses. “Put these on.”

“Nice,” Jaime approved, slipping them on. 

“Right. Let’s discuss what to expect from the meeting. . .” Tyrion began.

The glasses hid Jaime’s emotions although they helped in giving Tyrion the impression he was listening. He made sure to nod and murmur, say something at the right moment to keep the charade. As this was happening, his body hummed with a nagging tension and in his mind was the flushed face of his blue-eyed former manager.

He had not been sleeping well since they parted ways. Somehow, hearing her snoring next to him that first night, and the following nights when he was on that uncomfortable futon, he slept well—much, much better than when in the Quiet Isle. His first couple of weeks there were plagued by nightmares—nightmares of walking on a road bathed with blood and finding Cersei’s head. He would pick up her head and as he wept over it, Brienne would appear, her eyes cold and reproachful. This was the reason he turned to drugs and alcohol. They dulled the effects of the dream but sometimes, he miscalculated the dosage and it was endless. 

Cersei no longer invaded his dreams, Brienne having replaced her. A most welcome option but it was always the same. She would be in his room, the light surrounding her giving her an ethereal, almost beautiful quality. They would kiss, heped rip her blouse open. Sometimes the dream went longer, with his head buried between her thighs. He had changed the sheets many times because he was staining them, but it wasn’t as bad as waking up with her taste in his tongue. There was no forgetting that. It was a pain that went beyond the physical because he had tasted her, could _never_ forget how she tasted, yet she didn’t want him. Didn’t trust him.

He struggled through watching The Band. The casual viewer would be impressed with Brienne’s output and with the way she held her own against Rhaegar when they sometimes clashed. But because he had spent years looking at her, knowing those eyes, it was clear to him she felt physically ill with what she was doing. Her eyes were not as brilliant but they were so fucking expressive to him that he would catch her in a lie, anytime. 

He longed to take her back. Not a minute went by that he didn’t think about calling her and telling her he was hiring her again. But he had his pride. He also rebelled at the idea of working with someone who had so little faith in him. Memories of their almost-fuck in his bed would have driven him straight to the bottle, call his former dealer a year ago. He was barely hanging on but he was doing it. He wished to prove her wrong.

Here he was stressing out over the wench but was she even thinking of him? He would bet his right arm she wasn’t. 

Still, he refused to touch alcohol or anything else. There was a silver lining to dreaming of her. He got to have her again. If he was lucky, he would have her there completely. Make her forget her fears with every kiss, every thrust.

Jaime searched for a manager for months. None of the agencies eager to sign him on impressed him. They were all too eager, seeing dragon signs all over him instead of himself. Finally, he went to Tyrion and persuaded him to take him on. Tyrion, genius that he was, had sold his tech companies and retired at thirty-five. Now his source of income was low-risk stocks and other investments. He still reported at Casterly Acquisitions, the family company, but that was only during the annual stockholders’ meetings. Tyrion had been dubious about Jaime’s offer but couldn’t resist the challenge. 

“You will have to play nice,” Tyrion was saying when Jaime eased his mind back to the conversation. “I don’t know how _Brienne_ prepared you for meetings like this but I wouldn’t tolerate your snark and mockery. Even if it kills you, you’ll have to hold your tongue, brother.”

“Relax. I know this.” Jaime said, ignoring the emphasis Tyrion put on the wench’s name. Like it wasn’t enough he dreamed of her and was constantly thinking of her. He remembered too well meetings like the ones they were going to now. Brienne would brief them, her eyes serious and her voice grave, reminding them to behave themselves. She looked at Jaime when saying this and he answered her with a smile. She always got them the sweetest deals and they would celebrate with champagne. How many times had he teased her about licking the delicious, delicate wine from her lips? Or during the drive to her house after the impromptu party, he would deliberately sing off-key the song he had written, and performed, just for her, Champagne Mouth. Oh, how Brienne growled and threatened to smash his pretty face. It just made him sing louder. 

“I can’t wait for how you’ll do the equivalent of Brienne’s `fuck yourselves in the ass if you won’t sign on Kingsguard on our terms’ speech.” Jaime said. “It should be easier for you. It’s just me, baby brother.”

Tyrion frowned. “And don’t call me that in front of them either.”

“Fuck me hard, is Tyrion Lannister nervous?”

“This is a new territory for me, Jaime. I’m a businessman.”

“Which makes you perfect for the job because it’s your sort we’re meeting. Not sure about the ‘men’ part. They’re assholes.”

The limo slowed down. Then the partition screen lowered and Podrick was looking at them. “We’re here, Mr. Lannister.”

“Excellent. We’ll call when we’re ready for you, Podrick.” Tyrion said.

They waited for Podrick to open the door for them. Tyrion was the first to exit, followed by Jaime. The Lannister brothers looked up at the sleek, elegant gray building that was Dragonfyre Records.

Jaime glanced down at his brother. “Shall we begin?”

Tyrion nodded. They climbed up the steps.

Later, over beer at a dingy bar in Flea Bottom, Jaime would do his best to assure Tyrion he had done nothing wrong. “It’s not because you know nothing, baby brother,” he said, impressed as Tyrion took a long pull of the beer non-stop until it was halfway down.

“They were vicious. We were outmatched.”

“Not if it was Brienne at your side,” Tyrion slurred as before he finished the rest. “She would have made them cry. Made them cry and call for their mothers to rescue them from the mean lady giant.”

Despite being down, Jaime quirked a smile. “So you’re not meant to be my manager.”

“Fucking right I’m not. But Brienne is.” His mismatched eyes were glassy as they stared at Jaime but his voice was firm. Jaime flushed and took a sip of his beer. He was still only on his first bottle while Tyrion had already four. His small, pudgy hand rested on Jaime’s wrist. “Listen to me. You need to get her back. If you want to sing again, you need her back. Whatever you’ve done, you apologize. It’s your life, Jaime.”

“What makes you think I did something wrong?”

“Okay. Fine. Maybe she did something. But bottomline, you need her. You need each other. Do you watch The Band? Gods. It’s like willingly getting lobotomized. She’s clearly in pain there.” Tyrion smirked. “I don’t believe she’s had a knight rescue her before. Why not be the first?” 

Tyrion patted him on the shoulder and resumed drinking.

Staring at his beer, Jaime muttered, “She doesn’t trust me.”

“Trust you about what?”

“Everything. How can I work with someone who doesn’t trust me?”

“Simple.” Tyrion declared. “You earn it.”


	4. You Came Back

After shooting the latest episode of The Band, Rhaegar suggested they have dinner. Brienne was quick to agree, famished as she was. They decided to go on separate cars because she lived in the suburbs while he was in the city. 

There were restaurants where one wanted to be seen and where one would rather be ignored. Brienne was pleased that Rhaegar had picked a Dothraki steak house. It looked rundown from the outside but the aroma of roasting meat stirred their hunger pangs even more. The place was small but crowded. It smelled of smoke, cheap bear and sweat but they loved it. They still drew curious looks—they were both blond and very tall. Brienne ducked her head, flushing as Rhaegar preceded her to their booth.   
They were quick with their orders, to the delight of the waitress who went to them. She looked bored but perked up when she laid eyes on Rhaegar. Brienne was smirking as she went away.

“We’re ten episodes down, finally,” Rhaegar said, leaning back on bench with a sigh. 

“I had a meeting with the producers this morning,” Brienne told him, lowering her voice. “The ratings are great and the networks wants another season. They want to renew me.”

“They spoke to me too. I said yes. You?”

Brienne shook her head.

Rhaegar sat up, looking at her. “Pray tell, why?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. But I didn’t know until the meeting how I felt about being renewed. Rhaegar, I don’t care what the ratings say. It’s a fucking terrible show. You and I both know that rock bands don’t happen like that. It’s different people coming together, held at first by a love for a particular kind of music and sound, to be followed by friendship, the band and maybe, just maybe, success. No one mentors them about how they should sound and perform. Not like we’re told to do.”   
Brienne was loathed to accept the job in the first place but she had been desperate to forget being fired by Jaime. She was sick of reporting about mediocre groups and diva, less than mediocre singers. But it involved music so she figured she would be okay with that. It took a beating from a pregnant Sansa for her to accept that she was not okay, and being in the show violated her principles.

“You and I know we shouldn’t be in that show, Rhaegar.”

“You know what I’ve become, Brienne? I’ve become the sort of person you would truly detest.” Rhaegar said ruefully. “They showed me the money, I demanded more. And they gave it. Simple as that.”

“Fuck you. What happened to simply loving music?”

“I can’t be in a rock band forever, Brienne. I’m forty-four.” He pointed at his hair. “I pluck out gray hairs every single fucking day. I can’t be screaming and smashing my guitar when I’m bound to throw out my back at some point. I don’t want to be remembered like that.”

“Jorah Mormont is almost seventy and he’s still a rock star!”

“Ah, but that’s Jorah Mormont. And he’s the only one who can still get away with wearing fringed leather pants onstage and being called `grandpa.’”

They laughed. Jorah Mormont was a living legend. He was an electrifying singer and still the liveliest performer around. His personal life was as colorful as his language. But he was still married to his first wife and had enough grandchildren to form an orchestra. Kingsguard went on a tour with him once. Jaime didn't like Jorah because the old goat wouldn't stop flirting with Brienne. 

“You know, if Kingsguard—“ Brienne continued but Rhaegar shook his head.

“It’s over. Even if Loras suddenly wants to, I’m no longer interested. That part of my life is over. I prefer being on the business end of music. Producing. Writing.”

“Things you can’t find in The Band.”

“So what do you intend to do after this season?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.” Brienne admitted as the waitress arrived with their food. They had both ordered thick-cut steaks, medium rare, with a side order of mashed potatoes, and beer. 

“I know I would still like to be involved in music,” she continued. “Maybe like you I’ll try my hand at record producing.”  
“Or. . .” Rhaegar said significantly. “You can make peace with Jaime.”

Brienne flushed. Though the firing had occurred privately, her situation soon hit the rumor mill. The music industry and show business couldn’t get enough making idiotic speculations. Some articles were really mean, like one that said Jaime couldn’t stand her ugly face anymore, now that he was off the drugs. Some, Brienne was sure, gave information that could be pinned to one person. There was a ridiculous article that speculated she and Jaime had an affair and her ex-fiance found out. She had been tempted to march to Oberyn’s office and break his nose. Instead, she got in touch with her press contacts, spilled the beans about his cheating, and ‘leaked’ the photos. 

That bit of revenge was gratifying, but only for a moment. Jaime firing her still hurt. It hurt that he interpreted her concern as absence of trust. Though she had told him before that his behavior made it difficult for her to keep the faith, she never actually lost it. Always she would believe in Jaime. But she had to draw the line somewhere.

They had a close relationship, one that was often mistook as romantically intimate. There was intimacy but they were friends (she could say it now) and never more. Any hope she had for turning it to something more had been squashed by Cersei hours before her death.

Brienne woke up to an empty room but the spot beside her was still quite warm. Jaime hadn’t been gone too long. He had made it a habit to sleep over, joking that he should just room with her. Everything was a joke to him. She knew yet when he lay sleeping beside her, her mind wandered to places they shouldn’t. She was a fool to be not in love with Jaime Lannister, the exasperating, infuriating man-child who always made her smile and laugh. He trusted her with his music, considered her opinions. More importantly, he sought her opinions. 

But she knew what she was too well. Manager was a fancy title for being hired help. It was a fact that Cersei gleefully reminded her of minutes after she woke up to find Jaime gone from her side. Still reeling from the harsh effects of the alcohol, she stumbled toward the door to answer whoever was ringing the doorbell.

Cersei smirked at her. Her stare was scornful and Brienne wondered for the nth time how could two people be so different. Cersei and Jaime had the same eyes but while his were always gleaming with amusement, hers were cold.

Knowing why she had come, Brienne yawned. “Jaime isn’t here.”

“I know.” Cersei was smug. “He’s with me.”

“Okay.”

“Listen, I have to say this. I know you’re friends but it’s never going to be more than that. He’s not interested.”

Brienne had never been able to stand her cloying voice. None of them could stand Cersei but put up with her because of Jaime.   
“Why are you telling me this?

“Because I can see you falling for him. Or have you already? I’m not surprised. Lots of women do.” Cersei said. “Jaime has always been. . .kind but that’s all, Brienne. Do you understand why I have to tell you? You’re his manager. You have to make sure things remain professional.”

After Cersei left, Brienne crawled back to bed, feeling sick. She had only been sleeping for like a minute when the phone rang. It was Jaime. 

And Cersei was dead.

She held him in her arms when he sobbed and raged at what had happened to his beautiful sister. He was like a child, confused and disbelieving, screaming his sobs. The days following Cersei’s death were long and gray. Brienne had moved to his guest room to keep watch. He wasn’t talking much and looked like he would splinter into pieces. Tyrion would visit. As he was leaving one night, he turned to Brienne and took her hand.

“Thank you for being his friend, Brienne.”

She knew he meant it sincerely but it hurt.

Since then, she strived to keep it professional. She had been in love with Jaime Lannister far longer than she was willing to admit. She shut her heart from that, unable to deal with his inevitable rejection. Cersei was right—how and why would Jaime reciprocate? She was his manager. She was the help, essentially. It was while she was nursing her wounds when Oberyn Martell came along. 

Away from Jaime, things were suddenly so clear. She could never be away from the music industry. And she missed him. She missed his stupid hair and annoyingly handsome face. She missed his teasing. Working with him. How he riled her up. _Missed his kisses. . ._

That encounter on the futon had been cruelly cut short, because of her. Her nights were restless as she wondered why should she care that he only wanted to fuck her? It was not all she wanted but some of it. It was better than nothing. She had come to learn that in life, whatever came her way was better than nothing. 

“I don’t believe he’s going to forgive me,” Brienne answered, taking refuse in cutting up her food so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “And if he’s happy thinking that about me I won’t stop him.”

Rhaegar was exasperated. “You like to punish yourself don’t you?”

“Of course not.”

“Yes, you do. You do. You know, I always thought you had more balls than anyone in the group but you really don’t. You’ll fight anyone out to screw us but when it comes to fighting for yourself your one and only strategy is to retreat.” 

Brienne’s eyes flashed. “Jaime had a tough year. Do you want me to make things worse?”

“He’s a big boy and he’s going to have to realize that his sister was a hateful bitch.” Rhaegar met her warning look with a challenging stare. “What? I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead? Cersei was fucking us behind our backs when she was alive. Why not repay her the favor? Just because she’s dead? You had no love for her. I don’t know what exactly happened between you and Jaime,” he added, his voice less incendiary. “But whatever wrong impression he got about you, it’s still fixable. You’ve been through a lot together. You can’t mean that everything ends on a simple miscommunication?”

“Let’s say I fix things.” Brienne said. “It doesn’t mean we can still work together.” _Not when he’s kissed me and fucked me with his tongue._ Her pussy dampened at the thought and she crossed her legs. Damn it. Of all the days to wear underwear. She was still confused about her feelings, how he felt, but if al she was getting from him was an affair, she could relent. She might take it. 

“Why the fuck not? You’re the best together.”

She squirmed in her seat, blushing. “Jaime is the best.”

“You bring it out of him and keep him that way.” 

“No,” Brienne shook her head slowly. “That’s all him. I have nothing to do with that.” And it was true.

Rhaegar raised an eyebrow and took a generous slice off his steak. “So what are you waiting for?”

 

Brienne had been parked for a full minute before she released her grip on the wheel. She closed the KingMap app on the phone then looked out of the window. 

It was close to eleven in the evening. Very late for a visit but she couldn’t wait until tomorrow. Four months had passed but it had been too long. It was different when Jaime was in the Quiet Isle. She knew where he was. He was writing her letters. Him being mere miles away, and them not having any contact due to a misunderstanding was killing her. 

Brienne checked her hair in the rearview mirror, fluffing the flat, limp top before she rooted in her purse for a breath spray. She could still taste the steak and beer from dinner. A couple of squeezes from the bottle and her breath was sweet and fresh peppermint.

She had no idea what she was doing, why she was here. One thing she was sure about was Jaime was the best person even without her. Yes, she was still afraid that he would go back to drugs and alcohol, she was afraid of many things for him, for them. But she was more afraid not knowing, of just letting themselves drift apart. 

Jaime address was in a neighborhood similar to hers, according to her sources. He lived in a split-level home with a wide yard and curving, red-brick path leading to the front door. One foot in front of the other until you get there, she told herself, walking until she was staring at the dark, mahogany door. Biting her lip, she rang the doorbell once, twice.

His quick answer startled her. “Who is it?” 

“Um, it’s me?” She said, shifting her weight from one foot then the other. When he didn’t reply, she added, cheeks reddening. “Brienne?”

The door swung open so suddenly she jumped, a hand flying to her heart. Wide-eyed, she stared back at Jaime. He was still dressed in street clothes.

The implications of that hit her hard. Of course. It was bitter and she felt her heart tighten painfully. So what if he had kissed her and she wanted it so badly? There was nothing between them. He wanted to fuck her. If a fuck was all she was going to get—she shouldn’t have stopped him. Now she was never going to have him. Fuck, she hated how sensible she was sometimes.

“I should have called first,” she stammered. 

Jaime just stared back at her. Nodding, she closed her eyes briefly and she turned on her heel. “I should go. I’m sorry.”  
She was halfway down the path when he demanded, “Why are you here?”

That was the question of the night, indeed. Brienne turned around. He was standing at the end of the path, more beautiful and chiseled in the moonlight. Yet his face was guarded, his emerald eyes hard. Not once did she think he would look at her like that.

“To apologize.” She said, swallowing. "I'm sorry. Do you have company?"

"You came here to apologize about my having company?" He drawled. "I don't." 

“Jaime, I want you to know that it wasn’t that I didn’t have faith in you. I was worried you’ll destroy yourself again. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself like that.” She took two steps toward him. “I deserted you once already, Jaime. Not again. I never stopped believing in you.”

“It took you four months to tell me that?” He shot back. “I expected some eloquence, wench. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”  
She shrugged. “I’m an idiot.”

She risked looking at him and saw a smile spread across his face.

“For once you are, yes.”

Then abruptly, he turned back and went to the house. He walked past the door and glanced back. Impatience on his face, he growled, “What the fuck are you all the way there? Get in here, wench.”

“That’s it?” She demanded. “And it’s Brienne, for fuck’s sake. My name is Brienne.”

He glared at her. “You want me to have you say sorry on your knees?” 

“I’ll kill you first.” 

He chuckled. “I don’t think you share how I’m visualizing you apologizing on your knees. _Wench._ ” 

How was it possible to be so glad yet also want to dunk his head in the toilet? Brienne hurried down the path, watching as Jaime entered the house. She stood by the door, staring dumbly at him. 

That is, until she registered the heat in his eyes. Her heart banged hard in her chest and her knees buckled. He smirked and held out a hand.

“Close the door and come here.”


	5. Evenstar

Though sitting on the couch, Brienne continued to fidget and look around. Gone were the elegant, arty pieces of furniture that were more for ornamental purposes instead of any function. Jaime had some art pieces, mostly small prints she recognized he acquired through silent auctions. The colours of the walls were warm palettes consisting of browns, restrained yellows, soft tangerines. No wall partitions divided the sprawling living room, where the main piece was a baby grand piano, from the huge kitchen. The kitchen was done in vivid blues and deep whites. She watched Jaime work in the counter, putting tea bags in mugs filled with hot water before he picked them up and went to her.

She did not foresee what would happen next after apologizing. That was her only goal in coming here, to apologize and assure Jaime her faith never wavered. To be here, feeling both warm and cold at once, intrigued by the hard grace of his movements as he sat down beside her on the overstuffed olive green couch, was not the scenario she imagined.

“You look flushed, wench,” he said, handing her the mug. “Careful, it’s hot. You want me to get the airconditioner? Or you can take off that jacket.”

It was an innocent suggestion but Jaime might as well have told her to get naked. Blushing profusely, she put her mug on the coffee table and tried wrenching off the black leather jacket that was suddenly too snug on her arms. She didn’t see his amused smile before he offered his services. She nodded quickly, turning her back to him. The jacket glided like melting butter down her arms. She was wearing a white t-shirt.

“Leather’s sturdy but you need to take care,” Jaime said as he draped her jacket over the top of the couch and sat back, holding his tea again. Brienne turned to face him, her own drink in her hands. She kept her eyes on her lap as she felt his warm and familiar gaze on her person. “How are you?”

Brienne looked up just in time to see that his eyes were on her mouth. He made no pretense about getting caught. Her lips suddenly felt tingly, as if stung from too many kisses. 

“I’m mentoring the next big rock band,” she said, embarrassed. “With Rhaegar.”

Jaime grinned before he sipped his tea. “I know. I watch every Thursday night.”

“Oh gods.”

He laughed. “It’s. . .entertaining.”

“It’s trash,” she said, shaking her head. “I have no idea why I said yes.” But she did. She wasn’t herself when he fired her, and latched on to the next thing that would make her forget. 

She brought the mug to her lips and took a quick sip. It was chamomile. Her favourite. She refused to think that he kept it in stock because he knew. Who did not have chamomile tea in their cupboards?

“Well, I watch it because it’s the only way I get to see you.” Jaime said casually. “Of course, it’s not all that I long to see.”

This time, she caught him staring at her tits hungrily. Her nipples tightened. Damn. She should not have worn a bra today. But the network told her to since it was a family show. 

She took a longer sip of the tea then said, “I’m sure,” she scoffed. He had kissed her and she could kiss him back and more, now, but she was still afraid. 

“Will there be an episode where you’ll mentor them in a pool? Or when you’ll be in a bikini?” He drawled, putting a fist under his chin as he rested his elbow on top of the couch. His eyes twinkled mischievously as she blushed yet again.

“Who wants to see that?” 

“I do. But if I have my way, only I will see you in a bikini.” His gaze raked her again, lingering on her legs under the jeans, the sturdy, heavy black boots.” Or less.”

This time, she burst out laughing. While she knew that he liked her body, it was an idea that she still had get used to. She was fit and took care of it but only Jaime seemed to find her sexy. She didn’t feel that with Oberyn, come to think of it. She was flat as a board, had no waistline, had wide hips and muscles. 

“What?” Jaime demanded as she continued laughing. “I told you, Brienne. Your body is straight out of my teenage wet dreams.”

“What do you think it says about you that you fantasize about women with nipple piercings and tattoos?” She retorted.

Jaime leaned forward curiously. “I remember those piercings, wench. There’s no forgetting them. But I don’t remember a single tattoo.”

She crossed her legs. Her ears were pink. “I have one.” She whispered, her eyelashes fluttering. She felt herself beginning to sweat. “I thought you’ve seen it.”

Jaime shook his head slowly. “When will you show me again?”

“You seem absolutely sure.”

“Brienne, my lady wench,” he told her, squinting at her and nodding to himself as if she satisfied a secret criteria. “I would like to be given the opportunity to try persuading you. Again.”

Her heart had been pounding like mad since he sat down. Brienne managed another laugh before she put her tea back on the coffee table. Mimicking his position, with a hand under her chin and body turned to him, she asked him the same question. 

“How are you, Jaime?”

“Wonderful, considering that my former manager, my brother Tyrion, bombed in landing me the deal that would mark my comeback.”

“Oh.” She said, the mirth draining from her face in a single swoop. “I’m sorry, Jaime.”

That’s why she was here. She realized. Call it coincidence or the stars aligning. No, it would be a disaster to have an affair with him when she was putting him back onstage, the radio. She turned so she was leaning on her back and looked at her hands.  
“You seem more disappointed than I am, wench.”

“I know how much you want to make a comeback, Jaime.”

“Do you?” 

She looked at him, her eyes flashing. “I think I do. That’s why I’m here.”

“I thought you're here to apologize.”

“I am. And also to ask that you take me back. I didn’t know about what happened today, believe me.”

He smiled.

“And take me back only if you want.” Brienne hastened to add, her cheeks turning pink once again. “I mucked things up, I know. And I made you doubt yourself. And—“

He put a hand on her knee, effectively silencing her. She stared at him questioningly.

“I should apologize too, wench. I shouldn’t have done the things I have.”

What?

_You kissed me straight out of a kinky fairy tale and you’re apologizing?_

“I’ve always been impulsive,” Jaime mused, unaware of her shock. “I should have been better with you. I realized you couldn’t be. . .well, you weren’t. . .on. I apologize for that, Brienne.”

Confused, she started to sputter. “Uh, what? Jaime, I—“

“The hour grows late, wench.” He said, patting her knee impersonally. “I don’t doubt you can drive yourself home but for my own piece of mind, would you just stay here? I have a lovely guestroom.”

 

He was a fucking idiot.

Earn her trust, Tyrion said. Give her time, surprisingly rational Jaime told him. The loudest voice of all was horny Jaime. _Fuck her and fuck her until neither of you can stand. Make her forget how it is to be without your cock rutting in her._

Jaime punched the pillow and let out an agonized groan. 

He had dispatched Brienne to the guestroom at the end of the hall, the one that looked out to the tree-lined street. There were other rooms in this house. He could have put her in the one next to his room. Hells, he could have put her in bed with him. But earn her trust, indeed. This spark of nobility, this chivalry, was so not like him. 

His cock was _mad_ at him. He had an erection from the moment he answered the door and the breathing, relaxing techniques he acquired from yoga barely controlled it. The whole time she spoke in that earnest, deep voice of hers, his cock twitched, as if it knew it had to be fucking her pussy deep. Those eyes too almost destroyed him. How did he go a year without those eyes? 

Earn her trust. 

If she only knew the truth, he thought, thinking of the precise reason he left the Quiet Isle so suddenly. 

He tossed and turned for the rest of the night. Twice he jacked off, wiping the mess with tissue. The relief was temporary until he closed his eyes and there were her eyes again. He would manage to sleep and there was Brienne, moaning his name and her pussy rippling around him. And the odd thing was, he was sure she wanted his cock when they were sitting on the couch talking. She had been unusually coy, surprisingly flirty. It took every ounce of control Jaime had to not shove her down and kiss her. _Gods, those lips_ Those thick lips and that big, wide mouth. He wanted to feed her chocolates, cherries, his cock. . .

Fuck trust. If she let him fuck her, that was trust, right? Then he’ll work from there. He was sure about the wench. Had been sure and though things did not turn out as he’d hoped, it was still very much on the table. He would do everything he could to make sure it was always going to be on the table. She was the most extraordinary—no one was like her. No one. He had let his sister get between them too many times and it was only by some miracle he didn’t lose her for good to some man. Jaime would like to think that no matter how he felt about Brienne, he still had just enough honor to not fuck a married woman. 

_The Seven found a new of torturing me with the wench._

At six in the morning, Jaime, having long resigned he was never going to sleep, threw on a robe and stormed to her bedroom. He tapped on the door lightly but only heard quiet. The door squeaked open as he pushed it.

She had only closed the wooden blinds partway, allowing some light to slip through. It took a moment to realize that the even fall of sunlight stripes on her skin was due to the absence of any ripple of cloth. She was naked. 

And sprawled with abandon on her back with arms and legs spread, sheets tangled around her waist, her legs. 

He almost wept. Her chest was flat and broader than his but those nipples were plump and meant to be sucked hard. There were freckles everywhere, and there was a sweet-looking patch around her navel. Her hipbones were hard angles under the skin, and those legs. _Gods, those legs._ They went on forever, the calves firm with muscle but the ankles surprisingly delicate. Then his eyes settled on her cunt at last. A full, thick, dark blond blush. Pink. 

His cock was killing him.

“Brienne,” he groaned, the sound rough and needy. He was never going to get enough of her. She was more than everything. “Brienne.”

She stirred, her legs moving listlessly as she turned on her side. Her hair was a mess around her head, one side flat and the other standing on their ends.

“Wench,” he growled.

This time her eyes fluttered open. Good. As she stared at Jaime in confusion, he flicked on the lamp. She gasped upon seeing her nakedness, quickly scrambling for the blanket. “No,” Jaime pleaded as he started untying his robe. Brienne froze in rubbing her eyes, staring at him with her mouth hanging open as he shrugged off the robe and leaped toward her. She visibly gulped at the sight of his erection before he caught her by the nape and bared those beautiful eyes under his gaze. 

Then he swooped in for the kiss he had long been denied. 

He had expected resistance, not her sexy moans and responding kisses that made him hot, his blood pound. He flattened her back on the mattress and settled over her strong, beautiful body.

“Jaime—“ she managed to say when his lips sucked at the column of her thick neck, his hands sliding under her shoulders to scoop her toward his chest. 

“I want you,” he said, pausing to look at her. He didn’t care if he sounded desperate but he hoped she felt the same. Hoped with everything he had. “Do you—do you want me too?”

Brienne stared at him for a moment, her cheeks turning pinker by the second, then wrapped a leg around his hip to draw him down. “Gods, woman,” he groaned as his cock rubbed against the hairy seam of her cunt. He slammed his mouth back on hers and she kissed him back with the same violence. Her fingers gripped his hair. 

He smiled against her lips when she grunted and rolled so she was on top. She sat up on her knees as she put a hand on his chest. Jaime sat up too, leaning on the headboard. She held fast on his shoulders. _What a view._

“Jaime.” Her voice was shaking as he caressed her cheek, her arms. “Are you sure?”

Remembering the dream, he brought her hands to his lips. “You never have to be afraid with me, Brienne.” He looked in her eyes. “I promise.”

“Don’t—“ she started to say then shook her head. Before he could ask, her lips were on him, the kiss this time tentative, sweet. He cupped her face as he rubbed his lips against her while rubbing himself on the slickness gathering between her thighs.

He moved so she was under him again. Her startled grunt made him grin before he lowered his head to her sweet tits. She ran her fingers through his hair, touched him gently on the shoulders, arms as he cupped the mounds and kissed pink nipples swelling from the studs and the sensations he was giving her. _What he could do to these tits_. Every swipe of his tongue, the tightening of his lips around her nipples earned Brienne’s coo. When his fingers added to the hot bite of the piercings, she thrashed and wailed. Jaime smirked and shoved her arms up, enjoying the surprise on her red face. She shook her head to get the hair out of her eyes.

Then he noticed something hanging on the end of the headboard.

This time he was surprised. “Since when do you wear bras?”

Brienne, breathless, glanced at it then back at him. “I have to. . .for the show.”

“Just for the show?”

She nodded.

“Good. Make sure it’s only in the show.” Then he plucked it off. It was small, a simple white concoction of cotton and straps. Then he wrapped his hand around her wrists and started looping the bra around them and through the bars of the headboard.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She demanded, struggling slightly.

“What do you think?” Jaime leaned back and grinned at the enticing picture she made. Messy hair, lust-darkened eyes and swollen mouth, arms bound leaving him free to do whatever he wanted to her gorgeous body. Her eyes flashed at him, challenging him and his smile took a tender turn before he claimed her lips.

When her body softened as they kissed, his hands climbed back to her tits and started pinching her nipples. Her response was better than he had hoped. She gasped and mewled, writhed, sucked and bit on his lips as he pulled and twisted the swollen nubs. Her whimpers warmed his tongue as he continued his rough play, her body surging against him. She rubber her cunt against his thigh, leaving a wet, sticky trail that had him kissing her harder. He wanted his mark on her. He wanted anyone looking at her to know he was hers, and she his. 

Brienne managed to tear her lips away to pant loudly and groan. He licked her unabashedly on the cheek, down her neck, until he was flicking wetly at her nipple. It was red and tight. She hissed, the sudden sensation that was both warm and cool sharp on her fiery skin. “Jaime, oh gods,” she moaned as he lipped the muscles of her abs. He sucked the firm skin, wanting more of her fresh taste in his mouth. Soothed now, she could watched or would close her eyes as he left purple kisses down her stomach.

Her legs opened wide and he smiled up at her. She sighed. “Jaime,” and raised her hips. 

“You really are a wench,” he drawled before nuzzling the hairs below her navel. Her musk was thick with arousal. He sniffed deeply, making her blush. As he wrapped his hands around her hard thighs to open her more, his eyes found something in the crease of her left thigh. Brienne blushed as he stared at the mark there.

“You love stars, I’m guessing,” Jaime marveled, looking up at her briefly before returning his gaze to the shape tattooed on her skin. His touch was reverent.

“It’s an Evenstar,” she whispered. Her cheeks bloomed a beautiful pink as Jaime examined it even more closely. 

“It looks like your piercings,” he told her, looking at the glinting jewelry on her tits. 

Then he kissed the tattoo. Brienne filled the room with another of her sexy moans. “Jaime.”

He licked and nipped the tattoo covering the supple, freckled flesh before he nuzzled back to her pussy. He rubbed his cheek against the rough tangle, muttering “My wench, my sweet wench,” before he parted the lips and bared her clit. She was so pink, here. He recognized it as pink but it was a pink unlike any other. 

_“Mine,”_ he breathed before sucking her clitoris.

He was merciless. Her taste and scent were intoxicating and he had been deprived for so long he was greedy and barely clinging to sanity. He fucked her with his tongue, remembering how to curl and when to firm it from when he first kissed her like this, having made note of what made her legs thrash and make her cry out. He smelled sweat and woman, musk. He returned his hands to her tits and played with them again as he continued feasting on her pussy. It was difficult to tell if she was wet from his kisses or herself. _And she was so, so wet._

“Jaime, I’m—“she grunted. He heard something snap then her fingers were buried in his thick blond hair before she stiffened and thrust her hips sharply toward his mouth. “Jaime, oh, Jaime. . . “ right before he shoved his tongue deep inside and yanked a scream from her. She sings. Then her come hit him right on the tongue. He growled and slurped every sweet drop, concentrating dragging out her orgasm at the expense of his desperate, very painful cock digging against the mattress. 

The tremors in her body began to ease until she fell limp and sweating on the bed. Jaime rested his head on her thigh, his grin weary yet smug at her half-open mouth and her bright eyes. Sunlight now filled the room, rendering her pale hair nearly white, her eyes orbs the color sky. Pink freckles stood out vividly from her pale, sweat-slick skin. 

“I can’t. . .” She started to say, still panting slightly. Jaime tensed, fearing a repeat of that morning in the futon. Then she looked at him, a crooked, sweet smile on her face before she drew him back up to her. 

“I can’t believe you did that.”

He licked her lips. “I’ll do it as often you like.” A kiss then, flushing, he asked, “Do you—do you have--?”

It was adorable how she stared back at him cluelessly. Jaime glanced down at his cock, now prodding a her stomach and the tip gleaming with the pre-cum. He would laugh at her blush but she surprised him by nodding at the bag she left on the chair.

“Ah. Expecting to get lucky, were you?” He drawled, as she slapped him gently on the side of his butt to roll him off her. Her steps were unsteady as she crossed the short distance to her bag. When he fucked her, he’d make sure she wouldn’t be able to walk for a while.

Brienne glanced at him and rolled her eyes as she dug in the bag. Then she withdrew a small brown bag with a popular convenience store’s logo. Jaime grinned at the sight of the box she held for a dozen ultra-thin condoms. 

She placed the box on the bedside table and took out a square pocket. Jaime settled on his back as she climbed back to bed. Her thighs were slick with her come. He groaned as his cock twitched even more. “Hurry,” he begged as she straddled his thighs. She blushed as she smiled again before taking his lips in a sweet kiss. He cradled her head in his palms then pulled her away from him roughly. His emerald eyes darkening, he growled, “Fuck me, wench.”

Then he pressed random kisses around her face, her neck, her shoulders, stroking her roughly as she whimpered and tore at the foil, rolled the latex down his cock. Jaime gripped her by neck the face as he pushed his tongue past her thick, swollen lips. He suddenly shoved her down to the side, enjoying the sight of her body bouncing on them mattress before he threw his body on top of her.

“Jaime!” She cried out, head falling back, throat arching as he thrust the first inches of his cock in her still-sopping pussy. He grazed his teeth on the pulse at her throat before sucking loudly, pushing hard against her thrusting hips. She was tight. He knew she would be. She moaned and wailed, touching him urgently and kissing him anywhere her lips could reach as he fucked her with long, deep strokes. What a skittish wench, he thought, gasping at how tight and warm she felt. Gods, he didn’t want to come yet. So he stilled his hips, the effort causing sweat to drip down the sides of his face. Brienne’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Fuck me,” she begged, throwing off his hands and grabbing at his buttocks. He growled and started thrusting again. “Fuck me, fuck me,” she chanted, her gasps bathing his ear, his cheek, his throat. “Fuck me. Jaime, Jaime, Jaime.”

He was so close, and from her watery eyes and sobbing sounds, she was desperate to come too. But he continued thrusting, closing his eyes, groaning, “Brienne,” as he sank deeper and deeper in her delicious heat. 

“Jaime, please.”

“You wanna come?”

“Please.”

“Do you?”

“ _Yes!_ Gods, please. Jaime.”

He crushed her mouth in a bruising, possessive kiss as he slipped his hand between them to flick at her clitoris. Brienne went wild. She tried to scream but he flattened her even more to the bed with his body, his kiss, their grip on each other’s hair painful. He pushed his tongue deep in her mouth as she whimpered helplessly, her pussy rippling and clutching around his cock. _Take my cock,_ he wanted to say to her. _Never let go._

As he pounded inside her and flicked at her clit, her hand moved higher on his buttocks until her fingertips rested on the crevice. Then to his shock, she slid a finger alongside the cheeks of his ass.

Jaime roared and pinched her clit. Brienne screamed but he cut her off by slapping his other hand over her mouth before releasing it and returning to kiss her there. They thrust at each other violently, each determined to come but also make the other come first. Dark eyes burned into each other’s, one with lips parted, gasps emitting from it, the other lips curled in a snarl. Jaime removed her hand from his buttocks and pressed it down her side. She wailed in protest and he grinned just before his hips rolled in a new direction, at another angle. Stroking places she didn’t think existed until that very moment. 

Jaime put his lips close to her ear and whispered hotly, “Yield, wench.”

Still fucking her, he released her wrist to return his hand between them. _Gods._

His name was a broken sound, like a guitar string suddenly torn. _“Jaime!”_

A second later, he shouted, _“Brienne!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More porn in the next, and angst. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Brienne's piercings are stars though the details are similar to her tattoo. The tattoo is an Evenstar.


	6. Not Until You Know

Brienne’s ears turned a fiery red as the cashier swiped the jumbo box of condoms twice through the scanner before he called over a bag boy for price check. She raised the collar of her leather jacket to hide from what she believed her were curious and judgmental stares at her. Crossing her arms tightly, she watched as the rest of her items were scanned. The bag boy returned with the condoms and she wanted to hide. But the price appeared this time and the cashier was able to compute her purchases.  
Shaky hands reached into her wallet for several bills then she hefted the two bags in her arms. She hurried to her car, putting them in the trunk. As she circled to the driver’s side, her phone rang. The screen displayed Jaime’s smug, grinning face.

“Wench,” he said when she answered. “Where are you?”

“ _Brienne._ I Just finished my groceries and I’m on my way home. Why?”

“Oh, good. Can I come over?”

She blushed, finding it sweet that after two weeks of fucking, Jaime would still ask her permission. But she was the same about his house. They had no problem marking each other’s bodies with kisses but tiptoed around real estate. “Of course. You know where the key is?”

“Top of the door. Okay. I’ll see you, wench.”

“Brienne, damn it.”

“You’re welcome to make me obey to do that anytime,” Jaime drawled. She rolled her eyes but her heart was racing. They exchanged a few more words before hanging up.

They have been together for two, unbelievable, really debauched weeks. Each was at the other’s house so often that it became the norm for stuff to be left, unknowingly interchanged or borrowed. She had had only one other experience of the high following the night they came together. But what she had with Oberyn was nothing to what was going on with Jaime.  
Brienne was a flesh and blood woman but had only limited sexual encounters before her engagement. Sex with Oberyn was good. As much of a douche as he turned out to be, he knew his way around a woman’s body. In the early days, he was a decent guy who made her laugh and made clear he wanted to be with her. 

Fucking Jaime was. . .it wasn’t just enjoyable. It was Pleasure. If there were a naughty dictionary, fucking Jaime would be the best visual definition. Fucking him was an extension of what was turning out to be a playful, affectionate, intimate and, dare she say it, a solid relationship. He infuriated her most of the time but it was also balanced with laughter. He challenged her ideas as much as he supported them. Oberyn wanted to be with her but Jaime actually loved being with her. That was one of the many things missing from her time with Oberyn. When they were together, they had to be doing something, and it was often sex. She and Jaime could be in the same room deeply involved with their respective interests yet still feel they were together. 

Despite feeling more secure over the days, Brienne was still afraid. She remained haunted by Cersei’s words, she worried about not delivering on her promise to Jaime. She didn’t shed a tear with Oberyn but if Jaime were to break her heart, she couldn’t see herself recovering. Next to the possible finite nature of his feelings, that was another fear—he had the power to destroy her. 

And she was the idiot unresistingly drawn to him, like a moth to the flame.

She welcomed the distraction of work from these thoughts. There only a few episodes to shoot for The Band before the season wrapped up. She had sent feelers through the grapevine that she was back as Jaime’s manager and ready to make a deal. Once The Band was behind her, she intended to concentrate on that. 

Jaime himself kept busy. As a Lannister, he was filthy rich. Never had to work a day in his life if he wanted. But he was also rich on his own. He had sold the hated penthouse at nearly double the amount he paid for it due to features he had added as well as his name. But he was also looking to invest some more. There was a website that aimed to further revolutionize music distribution, an electronics company and a healthy food manufacturing company. For these, he sought Tyrion’s advice. Tyrion had always been his financial advisor.

Brienne was welcomed with a full kiss on the mouth by Jaime before he relieved her of the bags. “Do you have anything here that should be in the fridge right away?” He asked over his shoulder. She took off her jacket and placed it on a chair.

It took her a moment to reply because she was too busy checking out just how ridiculously he looked in a worn, v-necked white t-shirt, faded jeans and sneakers. Seriously. It wasn’t fair. Realizing he might catch her and subject her to endless teasing, she dived straight for the mail he had thoughtfully picked up from the floor upon entering the house.

“Uh, there’s lamb chops but we’re having that for dinner. But yeah, sausages, bacon, ice cream, milk, vegetables.” As she spoke, Jaime was beginning to unpack her purchases. Really. How could this man be real? 

“Lamb chops, huh?” He threw her a wink. “Wench, you’re too good for me, you know that?”

“Not so fast, Lannister,” she said with a smirk before frowning at her electric bill. “You’re cooking.”

“Only if you do the dishes.”

“I might be too drunk from the wine by then,” she said dramatically. 

Jaime laughed as he put a couple of cereal boxes in the cupboard. “How about you cook and I do the dishes? I’m also fine with both if that means we can stay in bed all morning tomorrow.”

“Tempting,” she admitted. “But I can’t. Tomorrow’s the live telecast of The Band so I’ll be in the studio all day. I’m sorry.”

“Next time,” Jaime said easily. Gods, another reason he was so wonderful. He liked the direct approach and he hated complications. Oberyn would have tried wheedling her into staying in bed the next day despite knowing her schedule.

As Jaime was washing his hands, she sidled up to him. She had always hated being taller than most men and she was still taller than Jaime. But since there was only a little difference between their heights, she didn’t feel as gawky. Not gawky at all. She put her arms around his waist from behind, kissing him behind the ear. As she nuzzled his cheek, she felt him smile.

Initiating she didn’t have a problem with but the next step would always have her faltering. Jaime turned in her arms and cupped her face. His eyes glimmered with desire and his smile positively sexy. As she dropped her arms, he pressed his palm on the front of her pants. She blushed as he palmed her pussy possessively before he unzipping her pants. 

"Jaime," she moaned as his fingers caressed the thicket of hair before pushing slowly inside her moistening warmth. Jaime grabbed her by the nape and looked at her with predatory lust. 

“Tell me to fuck you,” he whispered against her lips before his tongue slid between them.

She moaned, thrusting against his plunging fingers. “Yes, Jaime.”

He drank from her mouth and she staggered against him for her knees legs were suddenly useless. Amused and delighted at her response, he cupped her face and demanded, “Say the words, wench.”

Her face burning, she pleaded, “Fuck me, Jaime. Please.”

Suddenly, his fingers left her. She would protest but saw him reach in the bag for the box of condoms. A savage red wave swept through her and her hands flew up to her face. 

“Forty condoms. I love your faith in my endurance, wench.”

She dropped her hands and retorted, “Damn it, Jaime, of course we won’t be using all that in one night!”

“But condoms expire. That means we’ll have to fuck twice a day for seven days for a couple of weeks, going over a few days. We don't want to waste money.” He tossed the box toward her and she caught it in her hands. 

As she was staring at the box, Jaime suddenly bent at the waist. In the next instant, Brienne felt his arm snake around her right leg, his shoulder at her hips. She let out as a startled yelp as her body rose in the air, bending just in time to miss her head crashing against the pots and pans hanging from the ceiling. Her eyes staring in confusion at his jean-clad buttocks, she demanded, “What the actual fuck— _Jaime, put me down!_ I’m heavy!”

“Fuck,” Jaime grunted, firming his arm around the back of her legs and beginning to walk. Then he slapped her on the ass.  
“Shame on you, wench. Do you doubt my strength?”

“No! But I’m heavy!”

“That you are,” he answered and she thought he sounded a little breathless as he continued to walk to her room. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it. Fuck, but I can smell your pussy. I should have it bottled and sprayed on my pillow." He patted her rump again." You’re a very hefty wench, aren’t you? You definitely don’t weigh like a sack of potatoes.”

“Fuck you.”

“I thought I was going to fuck you,” he chuckled then unceremoniously threw her down the bed. Brienne screamed as she crashed on the mattress, the frame squeaking ominously. The box rolled from her hand. As she pawed uselessly to sit up, Jaime flung himself beside her, grabbed her by the collar of her t-shirt and drew her over him. She slanted her mouth over his hungrily, pressing him hard on the mattress. His heart beat fast against her chest.

Her desire for Jaime went from zero to a hundred in a snap. Their lips remained fused as she tore at his belt and he helped her lower his pants. She whined at having to remove herself from him to get rid of her blasted pants, her fucking shoes before he yanked her back on his lap. “Fucking wench,” Jaime hissed at her before he grabbed at the collar of her t-shirt with both hands and ripped it. Oh gods, she thought, shoving away the tattered bits of her top to throw her arms around him.

As she shoved her tongue back to his mouth and raked her nails down his t-shirt, pinching his nipples, she felt him fumbling for something. She broke away briefly to see him reaching for the box. Eyes gleaming with sudden glee, she moved on her knees down his body. Too late did Jaime realize what she was doing. As he fought to open the box, Brienne wrapped her lips around the round, yummy-looking head of his beautiful cock and sucked.

Hard.

 _“Fuck!”_ Jaime yelled, head falling back. His eyes closed as she kissed and suckled him wetly. He opened them just as she was running her tongue up and down his shaft. Shuddering, he managed to grab a packet from the box. 

“I want that cunt, Brienne. I want to fuck your cunt,” he growled as he tore the packet open. His face slackened as she licked the crease between his cock and balls. “Gods damn it,” he gasped. _“Please.”_

Jaime was helpless. Jaime was begging. It was a sight she could get used to because he looked so beautiful and made her want him more. She tortured him some more by sucking on his balls before tonguing him from the top of his shaft down to his swollen tip. She cried out as he suddenly yanked her by the hair and slammed his mouth back to hers. She cradled his face gently as they kissed, her whimpers trembling against his tongue.

Still kissing, she helped him with the condom. Between them were shaking hands, an insatiable need to kiss and a mounting desperation to devour and fuck. They groaned as his cock was fully encased in latex. Then she threw her leg over him and lowered herself down that beautiful thick column of flesh.

Brienne’s head fell back. Every rise and fall of her hips was a caress of his cock in her pussy. Jaime’s cock was long and thick, widening at the base. This was the kind of cock she would fuck forever. She straightened her head and found his heated stare. No. She would fuck him for the rest of her days. _Yes. Jaime._ Fuck him forever if she could, if he’d let her. If she could be brave about wanting Jaime longer than she dared hope. _Yes. Yes._

Her release had her back arching sharply, almost bending her in half if not for Jaime’s wrapped behind her shoulders, his other hand at the small of her back. As she shuddered and jerked, his lips rubbed against her tits, kissing her nipples with a tenderness that had her sobbing and drawing another orgasm from her. She let him move her so she could slump limp and heavy on his chest while he finished inside her with a groan. He hissed her name as her cunt spasmed around him once more.  
Holding her again, Jaime lay back on the bed, keeping her on top of him. Brienne sighed and, conscious of her weight, started to shift away. He held her fast and shook his head sternly.

“I quite like where you are, wench,” he murmured, pinching the supple flesh of her ass.

Blushing, she muttered, “I’m crushing you.”

“I’m strong enough.” He pushed her short hair away from her face and looked at her right in the eye. 

“I don’t doubt that, Jaime.”

She put her head back on his chest. His t-shirt smelled of faint cologne and sweat.

He stroked her up and down her spine. It was a bone-melting touch. 

“You never doubted me,” he said, sounding as if the truth just hit him. “Why are you this good, Brienne?”

She bit her lip, worried about what he was asking of her.

“I’m not the best man. I’m not blind about the fact that you deserve better, wench. But I’m selfish and nobody takes away what’s mine. Why. . .why would you be good to a person like that?”

Knowing there was no escaping the question this time, she took a deep breath and looked at him. He was still touching her.  
“Why would you say you’re not the best man?” She asked. “How can you think of yourself that way?”

She sensed there was something Jaime had been wanting to talk to her about for some time. Despite his soothing touches, his face was tensed. He started to protest when she got off his lap but quieted when she settled beside him. He removed the condom and tossed it away then zipped up his pants. He covered her in the blanket and turned so he could look at her.  
For the first time, she saw that Jaime Lannister was scared.

“You don’t know all that there is to know about me,” he said, caressing her arm. His eyes seemed to look at every freckle there before going back to her face. “I should have told you about them a long time ago.”

Brienne remembered an argument they had after shortly after his return from the Quiet Isle. Jaime taunting her about something about him she should know. Her absolute refusal. Her mind refused to speculate on what he meant about being a deplorable man although there wasn’t much Math to do. She tensed, remembering what Cersei told her, remembering many things about the dead woman that caused her to think, barely stopping herself from going into territory she will never forget.

Jaime felt her stiffen and he looked sad. 

No. She couldn’t—she couldn’t let him be like that. At that moment, she realized just how far she would go for him.  
“Whatever it is, Jaime, I’m not leaving.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that. Not until you know everything.”

He removed his hand from her. She shook her head and grabbed it, threading her fingers through his and clasping tightly.  
He glanced at their joined hands, the despondence in his face easing. She hoped so. Then he looked at her.

“I have loved you for a long time.” 

She held her breath.

“But I only realized it the night you said you didn't want me in your life anymore. But I wasn't worthy of you.At the Quiet Isle, it was so clear to me. When a man hasn’t much to do, when he gets lost in mundane things, that’s when the truth hits him.” He said, talking more to himself because he was looking at their hands again. “All I knew before that was I always. . .enjoyed being with you. Even when you were being a stubborn ass.” His chuckle was hesitant but his eyes were warm as they turned to her. “I think that’s when I enjoyed being with you the most. On our last tour. . .do you remember?”

She nodded. That was when Cersei died in that horrible car accident.

“I think I was already getting an inkling. . .I couldn’t stop thinking of you, being with you. When I sang I imagined you were just off to the side of the stage but when I looked you’re actually there. You infuriate me sometimes. There are moments when I think I could have throttled you to the ground but only if you’re drunk. But even when you’re just in the room, even when we were with everybody else. . .it was wonderful. I hated being away from you.”

He said it as if in pain. Brienne shifted and moved to embrace him but he shook his head. At the wounded look that flashed briefly on his face, he was quick to apologize.

“There’s nothing I’d want more, wench. But I have to tell you. Now. So that you’ll know. . .I’m not saying it’s an excuse for the shit I did but. . .I want you to know. When you know, then I want you to decide if you still want to be with me.”

“Jaime,” she said, then swallowed. “Please. Whatever it is, if you feel you must tell me then okay. I will accept everything and anything there is about you. I swear it.”

“Don’t. Don’t say things like that. Not when you don’t know yet.” His voice was firm, almost angry. 

“Then tell me.” She sat up, gathering the blanket to her chest. Jaime sat up too, leaning against the headboard. This time, he reached for her hand.

His eyes were pleading. He reminded her of a little boy terrified of losing everything. She wanted to draw him in her arms, vow to protect him, that she was never leaving. But he was determined to do this first. He wanted her to decide if she still felt the same after she found out.

“Remember on our last night in Braavos? Do you remember what I sang before you passed out?”

Brienne nodded and, softly, sang, _“`He licked the honey from her hair.’”_

Despite the tension, they smiled. 

“Of course that’s what you remember.”

“Jaime, a few days ago, you kept singing that as you were. . .well. . .” She blushed furiously. 

“When I was eating your sweet and very wet pussy?”

“Jaime!”

He suddenly grabbed her and kissed her hard. She kissed him back.

“One last kiss,” he whispered before they parted.

“Don’t say that,” she begged. “Jaime, I promise. Whatever it is, my feelings for you will not change. I—“

Jaime, panicking, shook his head. “No. Let me say this first. Brienne, don’t—I can’t—I can’t have you say whatever follow that only to see regret on your face after you find out. I can’t. It would kill me, you understand? I can’t see myself recovering from that for a long time. Don’t. I beg you.”

She cupped his face and kissed him softly. 

“I’m a terrible human being,” he whispered against her lips. “Do you know what I said to my sister the night she died?”

She looked in his eyes. Jaime took a deep breath.

“I told her I never wanted to see her again.” His voice hardened. “Do you know why?”

“I will accept anything and everything there is to know about you, Jaime.” She repeated, though she was beginning to shiver, dreading what he will say next. They were not holding hands. 

“Cersei—my sister—my twin sister. She tried to seduce me.” At Brienne’s stunned expression, Jaime looked ready to weep. “She stood naked before me and. . .and she kissed me. Brienne, she kissed me. It was sick. I’ve never. . .I know she was never herself after the accident with our mother but I didn’t know the extent. I was so disgusted I wanted to throw up but I hit her instead. I hit her and said I never wanted to see her again. I left her on the floor. The rest,” he said, every syllable wrung from his lips slowly, “you know.”

They stared at each other wordlessly. Confusion, shock and anger hung thick in the room. 

_Cersei had seduced Jaime._ It was Brienne’s nightmare almost come true. 

“Say something.” Jaime pleaded. “Kiss me or hit me, Brienne. Anything.”


	7. Never Let Me Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can find the plot, tell me. Seriously.  
> This is just all smut.

Brienne reached for Jaime’s hand.

Their eyes met for a moment before he used it to grab her and pull her down beside him. She opened her mouth to speak, despite not knowing what to say. But Jaime shook his head, resting a finger on her full lips. They lay facing each other and he closed his eyes. 

His deep breathing told her he was asleep.

He had loved her for a long time.

It felt like a kiss and a stab at the same time.

She stayed for an hour, just watching him. His revelation had given answers to things she never questioned. Now she understood his guilt—as sick as Cersei had become, even when Jaime was without fault in what he said, the fact that those were the words he last said to her would drive even the strongest to a downward spiral. She would like to believe Cersei had something good in her for Jaime to love her and be devoted to her as he had. But deep down, a loathing for the dead woman began to grow and spread, a black flame. 

Cersei had kept them apart for years.

All those years she believed she was nothing more to Jaime. All those years of almost-kisses. The undeniable affection. The affairs they could have been spared. The time lost when they could have been loving each other early on. Brienne didn’t know if she could forgive that. Didn’t know if this struggle meant Cersei still had power even in death.

What she knew was she was less afraid now.

Brienne kissed him lightly on the lips and carefully extricated herself from his hold. Naked, she went to the bathroom and showered quickly. She removed her piercings and put them in their case, to be cleaned later. A brief pat of the towel on her damp skin and she emerged from the bathroom still naked. In the closet, she picked an old, faded green shirt and black drawstring shorts. 

Jaime was now sleeping on his stomach, resting on her spot in bed She brushed away his blond hair from his forehead before kissing him again then leaving the room.

His revelation explained things but there was still a heaviness that rested in her. Glumly, she abandoned tonight’s planned lamb chops, exchanging them for a simple omelet. Warm food, her stomach growled. Something fast but hearty. 

She gathered peppers, onions and tomatoes, a can of mushrooms from the cupboard, spices. The warmth from the spices lifted her spirits a little as she sprinkled them over the food sizzling in the pan.

She put it in a large plate folded in half. She got a tray and brought it to the counter with the plate of omelet. Maybe Jaime would like to eat in bed?

Just then, the handsome devil of her thoughts entered the kitchen.

“Uh, hi,” she said awkwardly, matching it with a wave as he shuffled to the kitchen. He had put his t-shirt and jeans back on but was barefoot. He was rubbing his eyes. “How are you?”

He stared back at her.

She froze at the. . . _hunger_ in his eyes. Gone were their emerald brilliance. They gleamed like onyxes. And pain. Longing.

“I need you.” It was whispered, as if he was ashamed of letting her know the extent of his desperation.

Yet, she felt a song in her heart, soft, hesitant. “You have me.”

They moved toward each other, lips crashing in a deep, open-mouthed kiss that was surprisingly gentle yet hotter than anything she knew. Jaime was holding her so tightly there would be bruises at her sides, the ridged plane of his chest and stomach digging into her softer flesh. Her fingers brushed his cheeks, discovering the moist trails of tears wiped mere seconds before. No. She wouldn’t let him flagellate himself longer over something he innocent from. Her fingers burrowed in his golden hair, her body bending deep until he was blindly backing towards the table.

Jaime grunted against her tongue when his hips hit its edge but his grip on her never loosened. As her hands roamed his shoulders, she felt his fingers deft and light as they skimmed down the edge of her t-shirt toward the waistband of her shorts. She had tied the laces snugly. His sigh of frustration would make her laugh but not today. She had just found Jaime but feared he would be lost to her. To Cersei’s memory.

She freed her lips from the latch of his mouth to take a breath while he loosened the laces of her shorts and drew them down. A deep, vivid scarlet blush hit her like a wall when Jaime turned her around so she was leaning against the table, then quickly followed the path the shorts down her long legs. Brienne didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Jaime, kneeling at her feet like a supplicant, pressed a feathery kiss on her knee. 

She touched him on the cheek and he cradled it there. Then he continued to kiss his way down to her ankle. Her breath was a series of sharp inhales, loud exhales. 

Jaime got hold of one ankle then the other to free her from the shorts. Her nails dug in the edge of the table as he pressed his face against her thick bush with a groan. He cupped her hips as he pressed his lips on the patch once, twice, three times before nuzzling the curls again. Brienne’s face was the color of an overripe tomato as he breathed in her most secret scent. 

“Gods, Brienne, how I need you.” His voice sounded like a sob as he rested his cheek there.

“You have me,” she said again, trembling. Goosebumps were overwhelming her skin except for where he held her, kissed her. She could feel her cunt softening and swelling at the same time in anticipation of his more fervent touches, deeper contact. Jaime inhaled loudly and the warm, musky scent of her arousal reached her nostrils, heating up her face some more. Her other hand joined the one still touching Jaime’s face, his hair, prompting him to look up at her. 

Carnal need was still dark in his eyes but there was a yearning in his face she had never seen before. Never on anyone, not even Oberyn. It was hunger multiplied, lust, love, passion in levels she never thought possible. She bit her lip, stunned at what she was seeing, experiencing.

A soft, beautiful smile touched Jaime’s face. 

“I love you.”

Then his hands urged her to lean hard against the table as his tongue pressed into her.

Her mouth fell open. “Oh. Jaime.”

She was hot from the storm of his kisses, the lash of his tongue on the innermost part of her. He licked her folds, licked inside her folds, determined to catch every slide of her honey, his lips pursing to suck on drop after drop after drop. She pulled at his hair, clutched at the back of his neck. When he draped her right leg over his shoulder, her feel notched at the base of his spine as she felt herself at the tipping point. She whimpered she couldn’t, couldn’t take any more. Begged him not to stop. Jaime sucked on her clitoris harshly, making her wince yet also want more. More and more. 

So he pushed a finger in her pussy.

Her spine arched upwards. “Jaime.”

He sucked powerfully on her clit as another finger pumped hard inside her.

Knees buckling, she cried out, _“Jaime!”_

How. . .Why?. . .Oh. No longer could she string a single thought, coherent or not. Her body was Jaime’s, his to fuck and savor, his to love. Her world was Jaime, kneeling before, deceptively submissive yet holding and wielding power with breathtaking ease. 

And she wasn’t going to fight that.

Never.

His tongue thrust feverishly inside her pussy, swirling around the tight, dripping depths while his hands imprisoned her hips in a bruising grip. Brienne clung to the table with one hand while the other slipped inside her t-shirt to pinch and twist her nipple. “Jaime,” she gasped, the sensation immediately more intense than anything. It was a tingling burn, one that demanded to be stoked. 

He fucked her cunt and she fucked his face back. It was a clash of flesh and bone, kisses and thrusts. Brienne teetered on the edge of an unknown, helpless and wanting more. She wanted his cock. But she would kill him if he stopped. She pinched her nipple hard and the flames flared up suddenly inside her. Momentarily distracted, she didn’t realize what Jaime’s hand brushing her buttocks could mean until a moist, determined finger began to pump gently in the hole between them.

Her eyes widened in shock. Not at what he was doing. But at what he was doing was doing to her.

“Jaime.”

Gods, she loved it. Loved it to the point of too much but never enough. A beautiful man who loved her fucking her pussy with his tongue, his finger fucking her in the ass. 

_She wasn’t going to survive this._

Jaime’s emerald eyes flashed at her.

No. She wasn’t.

Sensing the peak of the storm that would shatter her, she screamed. 

After her legs failed her the first time Jaime came to her, he glanced at her, grabbed her by the waist to set her on his lap and shoved his cock in her. Drained, she barely hung on, gasping and saying the most nonsense things in his ears. His entire body was so hard from tension that even just being held against him was going to leave her bruised, she was sure. Her nails carved half-moons in his shoulders when his hips got frantic thrusting against her as his orgasm approached. He bit her shoulder as he came, and she was too limp to push him away, instead letting him sink his teeth on her skin as his cock flooded her cunt with his semen.

They lay on the kitchen floor for a few minutes, panting, before Jaime pulled his pants up and sat up. He offered her a hand and she gratefully took it. He passed her the shorts and watched as she put them on.

If she thought he’d had enough of her for the night, he proved her wrong right after dinner. The omelet was a little cool though some sections were still warm. He insisted that she sit on his lap as they ate. Ridiculous, she told him but he was determined so she let him pull her down there. It became her responsibility to fork portions from the omelet to feed themselves because Jaime kissed or nipped her between bites. When she chewed, his hand found her tits and pinched her nipples, licked her neck. 

They fucked with her bent over the table next. Brienne had always hated this position but with Jaime, she couldn’t remember why. It was the most right thing in the world for him to grip her by the hips and pound into her pussy with fury. It felt good for the first time ever because he kept grunting her name, grunting about fucking her wet pussy. He sucked on her earlobe then whispered, “I want to fuck you in the ass.” Brienne once again came with a scream.

They fucked against the wall in the kitchen, the wall by the front door. She pushed him on the couch and sucked him off like a woman possessed, enjoying his cries and pleas. Jaime repaid her the favor by practically mauling her to the floor and attacking her pussy with a growl.

By then they had little to no use of their legs. Jaime laughed as he hauled her up so she could throw her leg over the edge of the sofa and heave herself up onto it. He joined her, all the more magnificent, looking like a golden god with his sweat-slick skin, his smug, dimpled grin. Brienne blushed as he looked at her pussy hungrily, quickly reaching for the soft, long shawl draped over the arm of the sofa. He laughed as she covered herself and stared at him with defiant eyes the color of the bluest sapphires.

“What’s to hide? I know and have tasted every inch and curve of your pussy, wench,” he drawled before climbing in beside her. She rolled her eyes in exasperation as he settled behind her, still talking because fucking just got him more talkative.

Talkative and way handsier, she discovered as Jaime cupped her tits and squeezed.

“Your nipples feel like very soft, very delicate rose petals,” he continued, smiling at her pinking ears. “They’re long too. Made to be sucked. I’m going to have so much fun with your sweet little tits, wench.” He pinched a swollen nipple gently.

“Will you shut up? Are you seriously not tired?” She demanded, but a part of her was thrilled at what he was saying.

“I am,” he replied, yawning hugely. His arm lowered to waist. “But I’ve wanted so long to fuck you, wench,” he whispered suddenly, his kiss on her shoulder gentle. “I don’t want to stop fucking you.”

She turned her head as much as she could given her position. Jaime moved to kiss her on the nape.

“I want to kiss all your freckles,” he continued. “Taste them too.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” she murmured.

She sensed him smirk behind her then tensed as he cupped her cunt. 

“I want to make up for all the time we’ve lost,” he said, emotion making his voice shake a little.

Brienne, put her hand on his and pressed it deeper on her pussy. 

“We’ve lost so much time,” she agreed, 

“Loss is never being with you like this, wench,” Jaime said. “I’d like to think of it as you getting waylaid. Took you long enough.”

“I did not!” She protested, hitting his hand on her person. 

Turning serious now, she settled on her back and looked up at him. His eyes could be kind. Gigantic emeralds. Brienne brushed her lips against the tensed bobbing in his throat.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lose you, wench.”

She shook her head. “No. You won’t lose me.”

Jaime grinned and kissed her on the forehead. 

“I love you, Brienne.”

Brienne wanted to weep. _He loved her._

She turned on her side again as he lay down beside her. They lay on the couch like spoons. 

“I only hear the sweetest song with you, Brienne,” he whispered, his hand returning to the heating juncture between her thighs. Brienne sighed dreamily as his fingers entered her, a thumb caressing her clit in circles with two fingers started fucking her again. She was a little sore but wet. His cock, hardening, bobbed against the back of her thighs. 

“Let me hear it,” he whispered. His fingers pumped gently in her cunt. “The sweetest song, my lady wench.”

If he was expecting her to moan his name, she gave him the surprise of his life.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Brienne tell Jaime what Cersei told her? Who knows.
> 
> Thanks for making it this far!

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics to The Bear and The Maiden Fair are GRRM'S, as well as the characters.


End file.
